I said I’d post from time to time on how I’m doing, health-wise. I guess it’s about that time. I just had my semi-annual visit with my pulmonologist, complete with the usual PFT (pulmonary function tests), to see how well my lungs are breathing. The answer is, almost as well as this time last year. I am reasonably stable, which with pulmonary fibrosis is the best outcome you can expect with the treatments now available.
I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a little disappointed. The Chinese herbal treatment I’m on is reported to have helped several other PF patients get measurably better, and of course that’s what I wanted, as well. But I don’t know the details of the other patients.
My doc was pleased that I’m doing as well as I am. We discussed the Chinese herbs, and when I said the main definite benefit seems to be improved energy, she assessed that as a win and suggested I keep taking them. We talked about some new drugs coming along in clinical trials; there’s one she’s excited about, which offers the hope—no, not of a cure—but of real stability and the halt of decline. I said how soon, and she said it was being fast-tracked with two simultaneous trials, and if the tests prove out, it could be available in a year or two. Now I’m excited about it.
Now, if only they had something to keep me and my family from tripping over the damn oxygen hose all the time! What we exos have to put up with, carrying our own atmospheres around with us!
Is it a time bomb? No? My heart? Could be, but no.
It sounds like an exceedingly slow watch movement. Tick…………… tick…………… Like my watch with a clear crystal on the back, where I can see the little wheel ticking the seconds. This is that, but slowed wayyyyy down in a demonstration of relativistic time dilation.
It’s the sound of my brain, working out the details of the book I sometimes call The Masters of Shipworld, but usually just the book. For a period I will call a very long time, I felt almost no forward movement. I was frozen in time, caught in the event horizon of a creative black hole. Sometimes I’ve thought of it as spinning my wheels. Sometimes I’ve thought of it as being lost in the wilderness. But now I think I have it. The watch movement of my subconscious has creaked into motion. Don’t stare at it, or it’ll stop; it only ticks when you’re not looking. Each tick is me snapping my fingers and going, “Yes! Of course!” as a new plot or character point suddenly comes into focus. It’s not always a big point. Usually it’s some little thing that makes me wonder why I didn’t think of it sooner. But they’re accumulating.
The gears are moving, even if you can’t see it happening.
I took the Mothership out for a spin today, just to run it. I had no real destination in mind—maybe Wegmans, maybe Costco, maybe nowhere. Instead, the road led me to Walden Pond. What a beautiful end-of-summer day for it.
My first thought was, man, I didn’t know Michelle Obama was such a powerful speaker! Nail on the head, over and over. Beneath my stoic exterior, I was jumping up and down just like all those people at the Democratic convention. And then… man, I had forgotten what a great orator Barack Obama could be! Whoo! Color me excited, and hopeful. And the next night… Oprah? I had no idea! All these people, hitting it squarely: Sanity and decency and honesty and civility and compassion can return to our national discourse. I can have hope again!
It almost doesn’t matter what policies the candidates offer. (Okay, an exaggeration. Of course it matters. Still…) What matters most is the choice of character. Do we choose leaders who promote hope or fear? Belittlement or lifting up? Truth or lies? Common sense or conspiracy craziness?
Kudos to President Biden for getting some amazing work done (even if he screwed up on Israel and Gaza), and then in the end setting his own ambitions aside to pass the torch. Quite a contrast with [see Jan. 6, 2021]. A lot can happen between now and November, I know. But for the first time in a long time, I am hopeful.
And Kamala hasn’t even given her acceptance speech yet.
Today we watched our last panels, at least the ones we could get into (many were full). With Worldcon coming to a close, we turned our attention to another exhibition just down the concourse: Beyond Van Gogh Glasgow. It was an astonishing display, conveying Van Gogh’s masterpieces in an immersive visual experience. Paintings set to motion, images flowing and melding with each other, set to lovely music (I know not what). We were invited to sit on soft benches, or on the floor with beanbag cushions, and soak it in, as long as we liked. I’m going to put a few stills here. I did take some video, which we were invited to do, but I haven’t had a chance to look at any of it yet. It was an extraordinary meditative experience.
I think this, or one like it, showed in Boston a while back, but we missed it. No longer.
Tomorrow we hope to see a bit more of Glasgow, before setting our course to the west, and home.
Yesterday’s highlights were some time spent with Gay and Joe (The Forever War)Haldeman, whom we had not seen in years. They are a delightful couple, and probably the best-traveled people we know, always jaunting around the world, visiting friends. We also had a beer and fine conversation with Stefan Rudnicki—co-owner of Skyboat Media, and also well traveled—who recently narrated six of my audiobooks. Though we worked closely together on the books, we had never actually met in person until this con. He’s a fount of knowledge about the audiobook business and a very generous guy. Stefan’s wife Gabrielle de Cuir, also a topnotch narrator and director, is a delightful lady as well. I hope to be working again with them soon.
Later we watched the Hugo Awards ceremony on my laptop, from the hotel room. The audio level was low, so I had to look at the results online today. Many of the works I voted for actually won! Possibly a first. Congratulations, Hugo winners and nominees!
Here a few visual highlights. First is the SEC (Scottish Exhibition Center), with the “Armadillo” theater center on the left, a delightfully idiosyncratic building on the outside, and bizarrely incomprehensible on the inside. On the right is the Ovo Hydro—or, as we called it, the Flying Saucer (it lights up green at night). That’s a sports center, apparently. That seemingly insignificant, triangular-roofed building between them is the main exhibition hall, where most of the con actually took place.
How about a Batmobile or two?
The SEC campus sits right next to the River Clyde, on the far banks of which sit BBC Scotland, an IMAX theater, and the Glasgow Science Center.
I thought I was going to get away without buying anything at the con except a t-shirt, but the art show mugged me and forced me to buy a print of a photo-art piece I particularly liked. Oops.
Worldcon has been a dizzying whirlwind, and I don’t just mean the wind-and-rain-swept tarmac between our hotel and the exhibition center! There’s been a lot going on, starting with a table talk and then a well-attended and -received panel called “Lost Wonders of Science Fiction.” The original title was “Dead-Ends of Science Fiction,” because it was about common tropes (psi, flying cars, personal spaceships, rugged individualists farmsteading the planets, etc.) that were once common but have largely fallen by the wayside. I hinted to the program committee that a more enticing title might be “Lost Wonders,” and they agreed. It was lots of fun, and many people came forward to accept Reefs of Time beer coasters from me at the end.
We put a good deal of energy into finding our way around a particularly incomprehensible building layout, thwarted by nearly nonexistent signage and the con’s decision not to print paper maps, instead telling us to use downloaded maps on our phones. (In fairness, the online maps undoubtedly provided by the exhibition center weren’t much help even when printed out.) Despite this, positive energy abounds, and everyone seems to be having a good time. I have worried in the past about the aging of the SF readership, but here there’s an excellent turnout of younger fans. At the same time, I’m noticing the absence of many of the older writers I used to see routinely at cons.
Interstellar the movie: When I saw it, I didn’t really notice that much of the score was organ music, played in fact on a great pipe organ in a church! I learned this when organist Roger Sayer—a bona-fide church organist, who helped compose and performed the music for the film—gave a presentation, an organ concert that featured some space-oriented classical pieces, plus a compressed version of the Interstellar score. I’m not ordinarily the biggest fan of organ music, but this was pretty amazing.
Speaking of amazing, I’ve just come from a wonderful concert by the Worldcon Philharmonic Orchestra, which sounds like maybe a fan orchestra, but actually was a genuine philharmonic drawing on musicians from a variety of Scottish symphony and session orchestras. It was all SF and fantasy-oriented pieces, ranging from “Tam O’Shanter” to “The Sorcerer’s Apprentice” to “Saturn” from The Planets to Star Trek and Star Wars medleys. It was fantastic!
The most surprising moment came when I walked past a panel in the art show, looking at some lovely cover paintings for Aliette de Bodard’s books. I asked the man standing there if he was the artist, Maurizio Manzieri. He said yes, and then he looked at my name badge and exclaimed, “You’re Jeffrey A. Carver!” I laughed and asked if my name was familiar to him. “Of course!” he said. “I painted the cover to La stella che cambiò [the Italian edition of From a Changeling Star]!” I gaped in astonishment. That was back in 1990, and I’m not sure I ever knew who the cover artist was. But he remembered it at once! At that moment, my daughter walked up, and she snapped this picture of us. Edit: Well it turns out (see comments section below) that Maurizio didn’t paint that cover, after all. But he did recognize my name when he saw it, and thought he’d painted something for me. That’s almost as good.
Low key day today, after sleeping in following our expedition yesterday. We strolled through the throngs walking the city. Here’s the Edinburgh Castle, which overlooks the city. We never got up there for a tour of the inside, so I guess we’ll have to come back.
We also discovered that the tall monument I posted a picture of a couple of days ago is not actually to Saint Andrew, but to a scoundrel who, two and a quarter centuries ago, worked to prolong the African slave trade. (!! See my correction.)
One notable fact of our visit in Scotland so far has been the remarkable number of really pleasant and helpful people we’ve met, some of them local and some visitors like ourselves. Basically, everyone has been helpful or cheerful to talk to. We had our final dinner here at Abbotsford Pub on Rose Street, where we found ourselves chatting with a very nice couple from Kennebunk, Maine.
Tomorrow our daughter Jayce flies in to join us, and we leave for Glasgow and Worldcon!
Yesterday we saw more of Edinburgh, including an exhibit of contemporary Scottish painters, the St. Giles Cathedral, and a lot in between. Here’s the Walter Scott Monument, standing in our path. Or wait, is that Barad-dur?
Well, whichever, here’s Allysen tasting an Old Engine Oil Stout with her fish and chips. Tastes good!
Today we boarded a train for Dunkeld, mostly to see the countryside—which was stunningly beautiful, very Middle Earthish…
…and to poke around Dunkeld-Birnam (here’s the River Tay and Dunkeld)…
which among other things contains the Beatrix Potter museum and garden. The museum was closed, but the garden was lovely, with bronze sculptures of Peter and a friend, and the fox…
…and also a gorgeous sculpture of a coo (a cow) painted with lovely psychedelic mushrooms.
That’s Edinboro not Edinburg as the Delta pilot called it. We’re here, and it’s beautiful! We came within a whisker of having to cancel the trip because of a painful blood clot in my leg, but I got cleared by the docs at the last minute, and here we are. So far, we’ve seen the National (Art) Gallery, which had some excellent Impressionist work, as well as halls and halls of older paintings. We arrived, coincidentally, during Fringe Festival, which features a lot of shows by stand-up comics. Lots of enthusiasm in the streets for that. We might or might not get to one, because between my gimpy leg and dragging around a POC (portable O2 concentrator), activities that involve close quarters and sitting a lot are iffy. Still, there’s plenty to see.
Here’s a tall statue at St. Andrew’s Square. Edit: It is not Saint Andrew, as we had guessed. It is a monument to a Henry Dundas, first viscount Melville (1742-1811), who as Secretary of State for War in 1996, was instrumental in delaying the abolition of the British Atlantic slave trade, resulting in the enslavement of half a million Africans.
Later, me, in our basement hotel/apt suite with my new favorite beer, Wingman session IPA from Scotland’s Brewdog Brewery.